


Smooshy Tooshy

by mynameispiaivy



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Cooking, M/M, Sex Toys, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:34:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameispiaivy/pseuds/mynameispiaivy
Summary: Mickey wanted to cook the perfect turkey, but Ian had other ideas.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 14
Kudos: 88





	Smooshy Tooshy

**Author's Note:**

> a thanksgiving fic idea that was pitched to me by my unofficial beta, Shannon. You filthy mofo! The initial intention was for me to write something fluffy...domestic, but my mind went somewhere else, teehee. but hey, who doesn't like to read a little something extra from Gallavich prepping for the perfect thanksgiving dinner.

  
  
  


“Uncle Mickey, is it done?”

Mickey feels a single drop of sweat running down his cheek, the tiny rivulet of water slowly streaming from his right temple down to his cheek and jaw. It may have been by instinct or maybe just to have his hands do something else rather than strangle Ian, he takes one of the mittens off his hand and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand furiously. For some reason, he found it already drenched with sweat, beads of moisture pooling at the ends of his hairline and brows. 

“Uncle Mickey, Uncle Ian told me to ask you if the turkey is ready? He wanted to know if he can start setting up the table.”

He groans, leaning down on the oven, opening the door with his trembling hands covered with these gaudy old mittens that Fiona probably got from a thrift store. His mouth winces as a huge whiff of hot air brushes his face. Mickey swallowed hard, trying to control his hands, praying to whatever higher entity is out there to fucking make his hands stay still and not drop the baster on the floor.

“Ian.” he mutters to himself.

“Is it about ready? I want to get the mashed potatoes in a bowl and cranberry sauce out from the fridge.”

“Ian.” Mickey grits his teeth as he says his husband’s name, his head bent down to his chest, both his hands on top of his knees. “Can you fucking stop that.”

“Hmm?” Ian says, voice lilting at the end.

“Ian, I’m cooking.” Mickey turns his head to the side and glares to where his tall, gigantor, ginger husband was looking at him with mirth in his eyes. “Franny is fucking right here, you jerk.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ian snickered as he saw how pink Mickey’s face had become.

Ian is certain, actually quite sure of it, that Mickey turning pink and bothered is not from the heat emitting from the oven nor the idea that they are about to host a thanksgiving dinner for the first time as husband and husband. He licks his lips as he sees Mickey’s usual tough exterior breaking, his skin flushed and glowing, all the muscles in his face softening, eyes almost glassy as he tries to compose himself. Ian’s gaze follow the slowly spreading blush from his ears and cheeks go down his neck, probably also reaching his smooth chest. 

“Ian,” Mickey braces himself on the sink, his hand gripping the edge of the wet surface. “just fucking turn this damn thing off.”

Ian tutts and walks over to where Franny was sitting at the dining room table, busily folding the Holiday napkins.

“Franny, baby.” He kisses her head, Ian’s hand brushing on her pigtails, “Can you go over to Auntie Vee’s house and tell her the turkey will be ready in fifteen minutes. Ask her to bring the bottles of 7Up and ginger ale for the punch.”

“I just got to…” Franny’s tongue hangs from her slightly opened mouth, her eyes squinting as her small hands fold the ends of the paper towel and makes a flipped wing of the origami bird. “There, done.”

“Good job, baby. You made four origami birds out from the paper towels.”

“How many are we gonna be later, Uncle Ian?” She tilted her head up, her green eyes sparkling when the rays of the sun from the opened windows hit her small face. Ian stared back at her with a small smile in his face.  
  


He pursed his lips and burrowed his brows, “So there’s going to be Auntie Vee, Uncle Kevin, Amy and Jemma,” holding four fingers up, “then obviously your mom and Auntie Sandy,” pointing his index to all his fingers that he had up, “Grandpa Frank, Uncles Carl, Liam and Lip,” his head starts to whip back and fro, realizing he had just held up all his fingers. He tilted his head down and borrowed one of Franny’s hand, holding it tenderly as he lifts one, two fingers up as he spoke, “Auntie Tami and baby Fred.” 

“And then me, you and Uncle Mickey.” holding up three more fingers for the additional names.

She giggles when Ian trailed his fingers from her hands down her wrist, forearm then to her pit. “Stop, I’m still counting Uncle Ian!” Franny squealed.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He giggles as he leans down, “C’mere.” Ian hooking his hands under her armpits. Franny extending her arms to him, as he pulled her out from the chair, her legs instinctively circling around his hips. “Are we sure we want to invite Uncle Mickey to our thanksgiving dinner?” He looked at Franny’s face, feigning innocence. “I don’t think Mickey is part of the family yet.”

Ian flicked his eyes to the other side of the room where Mickey was standing, and saw him with his hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his jeans, back leaning on the kitchen counter.

“What did you just say, firecrotch?” Mickey’s brows raised, making a perfect arch, chin jutting forward.

“I said,” Ian tightens his grip on the underside of Franny’s butt, his hips cocking to the side, “I don’t think we should invite you to the party tonight, Milkovich.”

“You can’t do that, Uncle Ian,” Franny cups Ian’s face with both of her hands, forcing him to look at her, “Uncle Mickey is a Gallagher now. You’re married!” 

Ian bounced his niece on his hip, “Oh my god, you’re right!” then swung her body to his front, “Uncle Mickey is part of our family.” Ian puts her down, making sure she plants her feet on the floor before letting her go. “Okay, be a good girl,” patting the top of her small head, “and go to Auntie Vee’s and tell her the turkey will be done in..” He looked back at Mickey, who is now squirming, body contorting like a snake shedding its skin, “in about twenty minutes. Here,” Ian grabs a few paper towels on the table, handing the items to his niece, “make more of the paper birds for the party at Auntie Vee’s house. You did such a good job doing them, I can only trust you to make some more.” He winked at her, “You already did four, right? We need eleven more for the whole family.”

Franny beamed with the compliment, eyes glimmering, mouth upturned to a big smile. She grabbed the pieces of colored paper towels from Ian, hugging them on top of her chest. 

“I will, I will Uncle Ian. I will make the best birds yet. Just you wait.”

“Good girl. Now, go. I’ll help Uncle Mickey finish cooking the turkey and set the table up.”

“Okay.” Franny hugged his thighs then ran towards Mickey, reaching up to him to whisper in his ear. Mickey leaned down to her smiling, “I will always invite you even if you’re not a Gallagher, Uncle Mickey.” She said conspiratorially, “ ‘Cause you always make me the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich for school” then kisses him on the cheek. 

Mickey bent down fully, squatting on the floor by folding his knees, but not without a soft hiss escaping his mouth. He made a space in between his legs for Franny, who stepped to his front willingly. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the huge amount of saliva that pooled inside his mouth. He purses his lips before speaking, “Is that so, kid? I’ll make sure to make you your PBJ every morning then.”

She waves her right hand at his face, making him move closer “I’ll tell you a secret, Uncle Mick.” she cups a hand to his ear, making her voice low and soft, “You’re my favorite Uncle, don’t tell Uncle Ian.”

Mickey giggled as Franny’s breath brushed the hollow crevice of his ears, “I won’t tell, I promise.” He hugged her little shoulders then held her by her arms, their faces inches away from each other. “Go now and run along to Auntie Vee’s house,” Franny nodded excitedly, her narrow shoulders shaking, “Make more of those pretty paper birds for the party.” She then turned around from his hold, he gently slapped her buttocks and nudged her forward, “I’ll have the most perfect turkey for us later.” 

She whips her head at Mickey and gives him a thumbs up, “I will, Uncle Mickey. You can count on me.” Then ran towards the living room, clutching the paper towels on her chest, her small feet making tap tap tapping sounds on the hardwood floors.

“Don’t forget to tell them the turkey will be ready in twenty minutes, Franny girl!’ Ian shouted at her as he followed her to the door.

“I will, I will. Geez.” Franny said loudly as she slammed the door behind her.

Ian went to the window, his hand reaching out on to the dusty, uneven curtains, drawing it to the side, his eyes peeking outside the street. He brings the ends of the fabric to a close and reaches down his pocket, pressing a button.

“Jesus christ Gallagher, can you fucking turn this thing off!”

Ian walked back to the kitchen leisurely, holding up a purple oval remote control in his hands. He pressed again and saw Mickey abruptly falling down on his knees on the floor, his left hand holding on the kitchen counter, knuckles white and straining. He was breathing heavily, eyes shut tight, mouth hanging open as his right hand pressed on his groin.

“Ian..” A single drop of saliva drips on the tiled ground, “please.”

Ian presses again.

“Aarggh, fuck.” Mickey finally lays on the floor, body trembling, curling on himself bringing his knees up to his chest. He moans, “Please.”

Ian walked around Mickey’s body, taking a look at the turkey inside the oven. He grabs a couple of dishcloths and pulls the handle of the door. “Perfect.” a savory waft of air lingers in the air, Ian inhaling the warm, delicious aroma of the cooking turkey. “We have maybe ten, fifteen minutes to spare, Mick.” He closes the door and crouches on Mickey’s side. “You think you’re ready for me?”

Mickey’s eye rolled back to its sockets, muttering some unintelligible words under his breath.

“What did you say, baby? Daddy can’t hear you.”

Mickey takes a fist full of his jeans then pushes his pants down, exposing his round, smooth bottom. He unfolds his legs from his chest, as he struggles to bring his waistband down to his thighs. Mickey arches his back as the cold tile touches his exposed skin, his cheeks flushing more with the contradicting temperature of his body and the floor.

“T-ake it... out. I can’t...” Mickey scrunches his face, the left side of his face smooshed on the corner of the kitchen island. “anymore. Pp.. p-please, Ian. Tt-aake this fucking thing out.” His quivering lips says.

Ian touches his husband’s ass, his fingers trailing the soft mound starting from the curve just below his back down to the underside of his buttocks. He could feel the hairs on Mickey’s skin rise, forming small bumps as the tips of his fingers slowly graze his body. Ian hears his poor husband groan, turning to the other side, his hand holding on to Ian’s leg. 

“Please..” He lifts his upper body up, brushing his cheeks on his knee, “I can’t do it anymore, Ian.”

“Okay. Okay.” Ian reaches over Mickey's body, his hand going to the space in between his thighs. He feels his husband move closer to him, the grip on his leg going up to his hips. Mickey is almost off the floor, his legs folding towards his chest as Ian touches the plug in his ass.

“Fuck.” Mickey exclaims as Ian’s thumb and index parts his butt cheeks.

Ian can feel the vibrating silicone toy shaking in the palm of his hand. The pads of his fingers sensing the skin around Mickey’s ass trembling as he circled his fingers around the flared base. He pulls it out slowly, Mickey’s body tensing as the plug inches its way out of his hole. 

Some of the self warming lube smears on Mickey’s white skin, the downy hair around his ass sticking on the sides. Ian stroked his back gingerly, making his husband relax as he pulled the plug out from him. 

“Ssshhh, almost there.” He says as the last centimeter of the toy comes out from Mickey’s quivering hole. Ian throws it to the side of the room, his pliant husband sighing as he climbs up Ian’s thighs.

“Fuck me, Ian. Just, fuck me.” Mickey presses his face under Ian’s armpit, his hand snaking on top of his groin, trying to pull down his zipper.

“We can’t do this here, Mick.” He puts his hand over Mickey’s, stopping his motion. “You think you can walk to the bathroom?”

“I.. I don’t know.” 

“Alright.” Ian brushed his knuckles on Mickey’s flushed cheeks, “I got you.”

He pulled Mickey up, winding his hand around his waist, his husband bracing his arms on his broad shoulders. Ian carried him sideways, the pooled fabric around Mickey’s legs not helping him walk, not to mention his body being all putty for Ian.

Ian opens the bathroom door and closes it behind them. Mickey panting as he waits, standing on the wall, his hand wrapped around his hard, leaking cock.

“Will you fucking hurry up? I don’t think I can wait much longer, man.”

Ian snorts, slapping his hand away from his dick then turning Mickey’s body, shoving him on the wall, his chest hitting the wall hard. He pulls Mickey by the hip, his ass lining up with his groin, his smooth buttocks brushing over his still clothed stiff penis.

“I think I like the other version of you awhile ago practically begging for me to fuck you, Mick.” He nips on his husband’s ear, a shiver running along Mickey’s body.

“Fuck you, just get it in me.”

“Get what in where?”

“Your dick, asshole. I want your dick in me now!’ Mickey almost growls.

“I don’t think you’re ready for me yet, baby.”

“I’ve been ready since you shoved that fucking thing in me this morning, bitch. C’mon we don’t have time for..”

He surges forward, pinning Mickey’s body further on the wall, his hand pressing in between his shoulder blades. Ian hurriedly yanks his track pants down to his knees then pushes two fingers in Mickey's warm and moist hole, scissoring his fingers, making the heated muscles looser for him.

“Just fuck me already, Ian.” Mickey nearly sobbed saying. “Please, I’m ready.”

Ian crowded his husband’s body, his hand snaking around him, reaching the hems of his shirt, pulling it up, scrunching it up to his pits. He hugged him closer, their bodies flushing together. He pumped a few more times before pulling his fingers out from his ass, Mickey mewing as his hole contracts into nothingness.

“Please.” Mickey's body deflates, whining as his entire body loosens, Ian’s arms around his upper torso the only means holding him upright. “Ian, please.” he croaked.

“Jesus, Mickey.” Ian breathes on the skin behind Mickey’s ear, lining his dick in his hole, “Fucking so hot for me.”

Mickey’s body jerks as Ian pushes his cock inside of him. He stands up on his toes, both his hands planted on the wall as he sticks out his ass to Ian’s front. 

Ian holds him down as Mickey tries to push back, arching his body, his head almost resting on the crook of his shoulder. He slowly pushes in, centimeter by centimeter until his cock passes the resistive barrier of his hole.

Everything is just so hot inside, Mickey’s hole tightening around his dick, swallowing every inch of him as he continues pushing in, his hips straining, controlling the motion of his body to not shoving his cock too fast into Mickey. He lodges his legs in between Mickey’s thighs, keeping it open, as he feels his husband's body almost melting on his hands.

“Mick? Mick, baby?” he whispers in his ear, “How do you want it?” 

“Fast.” Mickey says lowly, his voice almost to a whisper. “Hard. Fast, Ian.” he moans, forehead resting at the crook of Ian’s neck. 

“I love you, Mickey.”

Mickey kisses his neck, murmuring “I love you too. Now fuck me, husband.”

Ian screws his eyes shut then starts moving, thrusting his hips, his cock pressing deep, diving into his husband’s wet, warm hole repeatedly. They began breathing short and shallow breaths, his fingers searching for the erect pinks nubs on Mickey’s chest. He felt Mickey’s thighs shake, his arms looping around Ian’s neck, taking a fistful of hair as he arched back off the wall. 

Mickey is almost hanging onto his body, his leg curling on his calves, hands gripping Ian’s neck like a lifeline. He pushes back to his every thrust, the slapping sounds of their skin echoing in the small space.

“I fucking love fucking you.” Ian gasps after a few minutes, his hips slamming on the soft mounds of Mickey’s ass, both his hands gripping his hips, backward and forward. The other man barely having his feet on the floor as the force of fucking into him almost lifts him off, Ian just about carrying his whole weight on his thighs.

“Oh my god. Faster, Ian. Faster.”

Ian's movements start to stutter, the friction between their bodies too intense, almost explosive. He slid his left hand to Mickey’s front, his neglected cock spilling precome on the floor.

“Are you almost there, Mick. I don’t think..”

“Yes, yes.” Mickey keens, “Fucking put your hands around me.”

Ian growls, tightening his hold on Mickey’s hip then slammed into him as he wrapped his hand around his dick. He pumps his hand and fucks into him in unison, his forehead resting on top of Mickey’s nape, tongue licking on his sweaty, warm neck, nipping on his skin as he chases his orgasm.

Mickey gasps, body going rigid. “Fuck, shit!.” he moans loudly, voice almost wailing as he spills in Ian’s hand. 

“Oh my god, baby.” as he thrusts into Mickey two more times as he comes inside of him, his body trembling as the aftershock of his climax comes in huge waves. 

They were both huffing, body twitching together as the delicious sensation died down. Ian lets go of Mickey’s body, feeling him slid off him down slowly, his wobbly feet planting on the floor.

“Grab some tissues, Ian. We got to clean ourselves up.” 

“I love that the first thing out of your mouth is a command for me.”

“It’s thanksgiving, bitch. I don’t want to keep the guests waiting.”

Ian grabs a handful of tissue and wipes the space between Mickey’s thighs, then folds the soiled paper, rubbing it on the wall where Mickey’s spunk spurted. He threw the bunched up tissue in the bin and helped Mickey get his pants up to his hips.

“I’m a grown ass man, you know. I know how to dress myself” Mickey grins as he pulls his zipper up.

“I know,” Ian plants a hand behind Mickey’s head, “I just wanna make sure you got everything sorted out.”

“You sort yourself out and mind your own business.” He pulls his shirt down from his armpits and tries to straighten the creases with the palms of his hands.

“You are my business, Mick.” Ian says, kissing his nose.  
  


“Stop with that romantic shit. Valentine's is not for a few more months, stupid.” Mickey looking down to his feet, a faint blush creeping on his cheeks.

Ian tilted his chin up with his fingers, making his husband look at him, “I’ll make everyday Valentine’s day when I’m with you.”

“Fuck you with this Valentine shit, Gallagher.” Mickey pushed Ian away from him with his index finger, “We gotta get Thanksgiving done first, firecrotch.” 

They just stood there, inside the cramped up bathroom, just looking at each other. Mickey opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, then closes it abruptly, the blush on his cheeks deeping to a darker shade. 

Ian cocks his head, then smiles, “What?”

Mickey's eyes slowly widen, his mouth morphing into a silent O, his face washing in sudden recognition.

“Fuck, what’s the time?”

“Ten minutes to five.”

“Fuck!” Mickey blurted out.

“Shit!” Ian shouted behind him.

“The turkey!” they said in unison.

They both started scrambling out of the bathroom, their feet skidding the floor as the sounds of people walking inside the house started lingering in the then quiet house. 

Ian ran to the fridge as Mickey went to the oven, snatching the dish towels off the counter, almost burning himself when he opened the door.

“Fuck, how does it look?” Ian brings out the cranberry sauce, and the pumpkin pie from the fridge, his hip hitting it close as he lays the food on top of the kitchen counter.

“It looks fine. Maybe a bit dry, but it looks surprisingly alright.”

Mickey turns the knob of the oven, eyes squinting at the temperature. 

“Didn’t we have the heat up to 300 degrees awhile ago? It’s turned down to 200.”

“Huh?” Ian grabs the utensils out of the drawers, going back quickly as he pulls out the ceramic plates from the cabinet, “What did you just say?” 

Mickey pulled the tray with the turkey out of the oven and placed it in the middle of the dining table. “I said, I remembered leaving the heat up to 300 degrees awhile ago before we..”

“Hi boys.” Tami cheerily says, body leaning on the awning by the kitchen.

“Hi,” Ian walked up to his almost sister-in-law, about to give her a kiss on the cheek, when her dainty hand brushed him aside with a shove on his arm.

“Uhm, no. Don’t kiss me with that mouth of yours, Ian. I don’t even know what your mouth was doing a few minutes ago.” 

“Excuse me?” Ian cups a hand over his mouth and tries to smell his breath.

“You know, all the doors in this house are open. Anybody can practically come in and steal whatever is inside.”

Tami walked over to where Mickey was standing, still beside the dining table, his hand clasping a fork in between his fingers. She smooths her fingers on top of Mickey’s hands, his knuckles going white with how much he was gripping the utensil.

“Relax, nobody saw you guys.” 

Mickey finally let go of the fork, his hand twitching as he tried to calm his nerves.

She smiled tenderly at him, her hand brushing Mickey’s heated cheeks. “Heard maybe, but not seen.” Tami pats him on the neck, “I was here a few minutes ago, dropped off the casserole, which you guys didn’t even notice.” She rolled her eyes then gave Mickey a huge smile. Tami turned around, seemed to be going back to the living room.

“Oh by the way.” She whipped her head back, “Ian, please put a hat on. Your hair’s got that ‘I just fucked my husband senseless inside the bathroom’ look right now. Don’t want the family to get any ideas.” She winks at the both of them, then turns her head taking a step, “and also, that purple thingy that you guys have been playing with,” Tami opens the lid of the washer, “I put it right here just in case you’re wondering where it was. That fucking purple toy just won’t stop throbbing. I wonder where you guys use it for?” then she continues striding out of the kitchen, into the other room, leaving the boys gawking at her.

Ian looked back to his husband who’s wide eyed and as red as a beet.

“Fuck.” Mickey huffs at Ian.

Ian barks a laugh, his hand clutching his stomach. 

“Well that’s how you properly celebrate thanksgiving.” He sauntered to his husband, giving him a wet kiss on the mouth, his right hand going over Mickey’s head to grab an orange beanie off the wall, “Happy Thanksgiving, baby.” Ian said as he puts the hat on his head, “Can’t wait to do this again next year.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> ***the title btw, is the actual name of the butt plug vibrator which you can buy at Pink Cherry (not in any way trying to do promo for the company, just an FYI for yah filthy animals!)  
> ***also, how darling is Franny!!! she's the cutest thing to write in a fic. Also, Tami :) I like her tbh.  
> ***Enjoy the holidays, peeps. Stay safe! and Wear your damn masks, 'kay!!!!


End file.
